


Quid Pro Quo

by ashitanoyuki



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (Or loosely inspired by medieval things at least), Alternate Universe - Medieval, Betrayal, Eventual mutual relationship, F/F, F/M, Imperialism, Morally Grey Characters, More tags and relationships and characters to be added, Multi, Other, Pining, Prostitution, Sex Work, Villain Protagonists, War, grey morality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: The Princesses of Etheria, led by the Queen of Bright Moon and her terrifying right-hand, She-Ra, stand in opposition to the armies of the Horde. A company led by Force Captain Catra - She-Ra's nemesis and former lover - stands poised to take Etheria. Nothing will stop Catra from leading her company to victory for the glory of the Horde. Not even that pesky shapeshifter will distract her, no matter how many times she finds herself paying them to fall into bed with her.In times of war, one must find roles where one can. Double Trouble finds that taking on various roles for the night - for a price, of course - makes a tidy living and allows them to keep their acting skills sharp. But when offered a new, more long-term role within the Horde's army, they find themself hard-pressed to say no - even if it means taking some time away from that complicated little Force Captain and her generous payments of gold...
Relationships: Catra/Double Trouble (She-Ra), Past Adora/Catra, Unrequited Scorpia/Catra - Relationship
Comments: 13
Kudos: 65





	Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm here to write a bunch of problematic and morally grey characters doing their best (and sometimes their worst). If that's your cup of tea, then enjoy!

The common wisdom was that nothing good could come from war. War would ravage the countryside, destroy families, kill innocents and combatants alike. Only the elites profited from war, was the prevalent thought. The common folk were left trampled in the mud, utterly ruined, no matter what side they were on.

Fortunately for Double Trouble, while they may have come from a humble background, they were _anything _but common.

They slipped out of a soldier's tent, lips spread in a wide grin as they shed the form they had been paid to take – one of a busty human woman. The Horde soldier they’d offered services to had missed the soft tits and warm pussy of her wife back home, and no one expected fidelity on the battlefield. Double Trouble had charged ten silver pieces for their time – a hefty price that they could get away with, what with their ability to take on the form of whatever lover or object of desire any given soldier asked for.

The soft light of rising dawn lent an ethereal glow to the camp as they hurried back towards the edges, where spouses and prostitutes and desperate hangers-on laid their tents, following the Horde army on their campaign through Etheria. A few campfires burned, bright spots in the gentle light, as some of the other civilians traveling with the army cooked the rations they’d bought from the soldiers’ mess tent. Double Trouble slipped into their tent and threw a quick glance at their bedroll, before deciding the better of it and making their way towards the large slab of artificial stone at the back. They'd liberated the slab from Dryl when the Horde had recruited Princess Entrapta and annexed her kingdom into their Empire; the clever little thing worked with a combination of magic and strange heat-trapping technology to emulate sun-warmed sandstone. Ah, but Princess Entrapta truly was a genius. The slab was just what they needed after a night of performing for soldiers.

Sexual performance wasn't Double Trouble's _favorite _type of performance, but in times of war, it certainly paid best- and damn, if it wasn't gratifying to be eagerly requested for new and reprised roles night after night.

They grinned as they relaxed back against the slab, idly running their fingers over the newest pouch of silver. Whether the Horde won or lost, by the time this war was over, they'd be set for life. No more scrounging for work and accepting bit roles just to keep food on the table and a roof over their head! With the funds collected from desperate Horde soldiers, they'd be able to afford to be picky about roles. Nothing but the big parts, the spotlight – nothing but the best for Double Trouble, actor extraordinaire.

The warmth from the slab settled into their bones. Double Trouble nearly fell asleep right then and there, but forced themself to remain awake until they had finished simulating sunning. If the Horde encampment moved out, they'd wake easier from their bedroll than the slab.

They moved languidly towards their bedroll. They tossed their heeled boots aside carelessly and wiggled beneath the covers, sighing with satisfaction. Another night well spent. Now – to rest up, so they could deliver a peak performance for whatever role they were asked to play the next night.

* * *

Catra growled and resisted the urge to rake her claws down the side of the strategizing tent. “So you're telling me,” she began, gritting her teeth, “that your squad is so _incompetent, _they were beaten back by a group of Etherian fighters that _didn't _even have a Princess?”

The squad leader quailed as she leveled a glare at him. “I – Force Captain,” he began haltingly, “that wasn't our – we had no horses, no cannons, and Princess Entrapta's mechanical fighters broke down before we even –"

Catra hissed, her blood boiling. “Excuses,” she snarled. “I don't want to hear your excuses! You're going to take what's left of your squad, and you're going to march on Thaymor, _now, _while they're celebrating their victory over you! And you'd better not come back without taking the city, or I'll have you and every surviving member of your squad sent to Shadow Weaver herself!”

The squad leader paled, the blood draining from his face. “Force Captain, taking Thaymor with so few men - it's a fool's errand!”

Catra laughed bitterly, a harsh sound. “Guess it's a good thing you're a fool,” she snapped. “Now get out of my sight!”

She glared after the squad leader as he beat a hasty retreat from the tent. “Perfect,” she muttered. “Just perfect.” Hordak had trusted her to lead this campaign - he'd _trusted _her. Told Shadow Weaver to stick it where the sun didn't shine, even, despite the woman's protests that Catra couldn't lead a full company – that she was no _Adora._

Yeah, of course she was no Adora. Adora was a _traitor. _And Catra wasn't. She was better than Adora – better in every way.

The grating sound of a throat clearing sounded loudly through the tent, and Catra whipped her head around, hissing, to glare at the culprit. Scorpia. Of course. _“What?!” _she growled.

“Oh, nothing,” Scorpia said, clicking her pincers nervously. “Just, uh… Wow. Pretty harsh there, wildcat, don't you think?”

Catra scowled. “Of course it's harsh. It's _war, _Scorpia. Get with the program.”

“No, no, I get that,” Scorpia said. “It's just, you know, can't fight a war if all our guys are dead, right?”

Catra scowled and pushed herself away from the table. “Whatever,” she snapped, storming towards the mouth of the tent and ripping the entrance flap aside.

She stalked through the camp, ignoring the way soldiers scattered, clumsily making way for her as she strode with purpose – no destination in mind, not that she needed one. None of these spineless little lumps would dare question her, not when she had Hordak's favor.

So confident was she in her stride, she nearly ran into a strapping young goatman as he exited a tent. “Watch it!” she snarled, drawing up short and glaring at the man. She didn't recognize him – grey fur and sharp horns, dressed in civilian attire.

The goatman frowned, staring down at her. “Apologies, kitten,” he said smoothly, and she bristled. _Kitten?_

_“_That's Force Captain,” she snapped. “You _will _address me with respect, or I'll have you court-martialed! You got it?”

Mirth sparkled in the goatman's eyes. “I'm afraid you won't, kitten – oh, so sorry, _Force Captain,” _he said easily. “I'm afraid I'm not part of your troops.”

Catra opened her mouth to respond, when the goatman's skin rippled, darkening to black. An undignified yelp escaped her mouth as the goatman shrank several inches – still towering over her by half-a-foot – and his skin rippled again. Black turned to green, floppy ears turned pointed, hair cascaded down his – her? Their? – back, and warm brown eyes turned yellow, reptilian.

A _shapeshifter._

Catra launched herself at the shapeshifter, tackling them with ease. “Who are you?” she demanded furiously, her head spinning. Had a spy been under her nose this whole time?

The shapeshifter chuckled. “Easy kitten,” they said, raising their hands mockingly. “The name's Double Trouble.”

What kind of name was _Double Trouble?! _“You a spy?” Catra demanded.

“A spy?” Double Trouble burst out laughing. “No, darling, though I suppose spying would be well within my range of talents. I'm an actor, kitten. And right now, well, let's just say I play whatever role I'm asked to for the night.”

Oh. A prostitute – that, Catra could deal with. She scoffed and stood, brushing her hands on her pants. “Whatever,” she grumbled. “Next time, keep out of my way.”

Double Trouble rose languidly and offered a fluid bow. “Of course, Force Captain,” they said. If Catra didn't know better, she'd think Double Trouble was mocking her. “I'll be off now. Come find me if you ever want someone to play a specific role in _your _bed, kitten.”

Before Catra could offer a retort, they were gone, slinking between tents and out of sight.

* * *

Fucking Adora. Fucking _She-Ra._

It was all Catra could do to remain still as the head healer bound her ribs and smeared ointment over the sword wound on her back. It was supposed to be an easy battle – just taking some no-name village at the edge of the Whispering Woods. Etheria's forces weren't supposed to be there. The Princesses weren't supposed to be there.

_She-Ra _wasn't supposed to be there.

And the worst part – the very worst part – was that seeing Adora, seeing She-Ra, still hurt even worse than her wounds. It hurt, to see those big blue eyes that used to look on her with such love and devotion, now filled with hatred and disdain. It hurt, to see those lips that had once kissed and worshipped her, now twisted with disgust. Catra squeezed her eyes shut and allowed a hiss of pain as the ointment sank in, pretending it was the sting of healing that caused her such distress.

“You should take a break from the battlefield, Force Captain,” the healer said. “You need time to rest and heal.”

Rest?! “I don't have time to rest,” Catra bit out. “Not while She-Ra is still a threat to us. How soon can I fight again?”

The healer pursed her lips. “Two weeks, at minimum,” she said coolly.

“Two weeks?!”

“At _minimum,” _the healer stressed. “You can still attend strategy meetings and direct the troops, but I don't want you setting foot on the battlefield. And wear your armor next time. Your scar tissue has scar tissue.”

As if she'd wear that heavy, clunky armor. It did nothing but weigh her down, and it wouldn't stand up against She-Ra's precious sword anyways.

Angrily, Catra exited the healers’ tent, ignoring the moans and groans of the injured soldiers around her. She walked without thinking, barely even noticing as her path took her past the officer tents, past the enlisted encampment, and to the civilian hangers-on at the edge of camp.

“My, kitten, you _do _look rough today,” a familiar voice called, amused.

Catra whirled around, wincing as the wound on her back pulled. Double Trouble lounged easily outside a tent, dressed in some sort of impractical, billowy getup. “What do you want?” she snapped, irritated.

“Hm, what _don't _I want?” they replied, their lilting voice teasing. “Money, fame, a leading role on one of the great stages of Etheria – assuming any are still standing by the time this little war is over.” They examined their fingertips idly. “And what is it you want, kitten? What has you so out of sorts you wind up here, with the dregs of society?” They raised a mocking eyebrow, eyes sparkling.

“None of your business,” Catra snapped, turning on her heel.

“Mm, I suppose not,” Double Trouble said to her back. “But then again, it's in my best interests to know how this war's going, if I'm going to follow this camp. Do me a favor darling, and tell me – was it a battle gone wrong? Has the tide of war finally turned against the Horde?”

Catra froze. “No,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “The war's going great. We're winning. Everything’s going _exactly _how we planned.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Double Trouble drawled. “I suppose I'll prepare to cut my losses, then. You're a terrible liar, you know.”

Catra spun around, snarling, only to stagger when her back screamed in protest.

Double Trouble's eyes narrowed. Their eyelids snapped sideways in a quick, reptilian blink. “And you're injured to boot. My, no wonder you're off your game.”

“I'm _fine,” _Catra hissed. “And I'll be better once we've finally taken out She-Ra.”

“Is that so?”

In the blink of an eye, Double Trouble's form stretched to a towering height. Their skin rippled to black and then paled, their eyes flashed a brilliant blue, and waves of blonde hair cascaded down their back. Where Double Trouble had lounged now stood She-Ra, staring down at Catra with an uncharacteristically mocking expression. Catra's blood boiled at the sight.

“She is quite a thorn in the Horde's side, isn't she?” It was weird, to hear Double Trouble's irreverent tone in Adora's voice. “I would just _love _to know what makes her tick. There's nothing quite like playing an enigma.”

Before she could stop herself, Catra launched herself at Double Trouble, shoving against that stupidly broad, muscular torso with all her might. Infuriatingly, the shapeshifter didn't move, but just stared down at her, eyebrows raised.

“Careful with the goods, darling,” they said mildly. “I can certainly let you take out your anger at She-Ra on me, but it will cost you a pretty penny.”

Catra stepped back, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Double Trouble laughed. “Don't think you're the first Horde soldier who's wanted to take out your anger on the enemy,” they said. “I can accommodate, for a price – but I have to charge for any damage done, you know. Those of us who aren't soldiers have to pay to see the healers.”

Catra’s face flamed, and she took a step back. “I'm not interested,” she spat. “You took me by surprise - that's all.”

“Hm. Pity,” Double Trouble said. “I really would like to know what makes the great Force Captain Catra tick.” They shrank back to their usual height, their green skin and elven ears reappearing with a ripple. “Run along then, kitten. Night will be falling soon, and time is money.”

Catra bristled at being given an order from a damn civilian, but Double Trouble had already turned and sauntered back towards their tent.

* * *

In all honestly, they didn't expect to see the prickly Force Captain again after their second encounter. As it was, it was only chance that they ran into her again as they limped out of an officer's tent, a pouch of ten gold coins clutched tightly in their hand, wearing the bruised and battered form of that flower Princess. Apparently, this officer had been in charge of the failed invasion of Plumeria, and had wanted nothing more than to take out his rage on the Princess that had so humiliated him.

Far from Double Trouble's favorite type of performance – they weren't a masochist – but it had certainly been a useful exercise in practicing screams of agony when only in moderate pain.

To Catra's credit, she froze at the sight of them, her hand drifting towards her stun wand. Double Trouble sighed and shed the Princess's form. “You're up early, Force Captain,” they said mildly, rolling their neck and relishing in the pops that sounded as their stiff muscles released. “Trouble sleeping?”

“No,” Catra said too quickly, defensive as always. What a funny little kitten – so insecure, so desperate to prove herself. It would be laughable, were it not so pathetic. “What were you doing looking like – like _that?”_

Double Trouble chuckled. “I told you, kitten – plenty of soldiers want to beat on a Princess,” they said mildly. “It pays _very _well.”

Catra scowled. “I don't see the point,” she complained. “It's not like they're beating up a _real _Princess.”

“It's catharsis, darling,” Double Trouble offered mildly. “The same reason one goes to see a tragic play, rather than a comedy. With enough skill, the act can be indistinguishable from the real thing.” And it always was, when they played a role – they made a point to be that good.

Catra looked uncomfortable. On a whim, Double Trouble crossed the space between them and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Don't look so perturbed, kitten,” they advised. “Tense as you are, you seem like you could use some catharsis yourself. Shall I put on an act for you?”

This close, they could see Catra's throat bob as she swallowed hard. “And what would that cost me?” she asked, clearly trying to sound disinterested – trying, not succeeding. Ah, well, not everyone could be an actor.

Double Trouble hummed, pretending to consider. “That depends on what you want,” they murmured, offering a wide smile.

Catra shivered, her ears twitching. It was almost endearing. “What if I wanted you to be Adora?” she asked, so quiet Double Trouble could hardly hear her.

It took a moment to place the name. Adora – She-Ra's alter ego. Or, rather, She-Ra was Adora's alter ego. A promising soldier who defected to Etheria upon discovering her Princess powers. They knew Catra had some sort of vendetta against She-Ra – perhaps it wasn’t just that they were on opposing sides of the war. The look on her face wasn’t that of an enraged soldier wanting to beat on a Princess – no, it was somehow more personal than that.

“Is this all hypothetical, kitten,” Double Trouble asked, leaning down to murmur in Catra's ear, “or shall we discuss terms?”

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from my Nanowrimo project to write and post this first chapter. I've got a vague idea of where I'm going with this... We'll see how it goes.
> 
> (Endgame will be Double Trouble and Catra in a non-transactional relationship, but I expect it will take a while to get there.)


End file.
